


Nobility's True Badge

by kethni



Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Pre-Relationship, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21952678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: For CrazyMaryT - I may have got alittlebit carried away.Authors note:Historical fiction is always tricky - different times have different mores and morals than we do now. It's tempting, incredibly tempting, to assign "good" characters "good" attitudes to slavery, misogyny, homophobia etc. But that's not accurate and it's insulting. Pretending that the only bigots in history were mustache twirling villains is ridiculous.Character opinions are not my opinions.Also, while "Mercy Street" is based on true events and real people, this story is not. I wasn't able to find out very much about the real James Green or Jane Muir. All I could find out was that they had 9 children (!) and at one time the furniture warehouse was called "Green and Brother." So, no offense is intended to the real people.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For CrazyMaryT - I may have got a _little_ bit carried away.
> 
> Authors note:  
> Historical fiction is always tricky - different times have different mores and morals than we do now. It's tempting, incredibly tempting, to assign "good" characters "good" attitudes to slavery, misogyny, homophobia etc. But that's not accurate and it's insulting. Pretending that the only bigots in history were mustache twirling villains is ridiculous. 
> 
> Character opinions are not my opinions. 
> 
> Also, while "Mercy Street" is based on true events and real people, this story is not. I wasn't able to find out very much about the real James Green or Jane Muir. All I could find out was that they had 9 children (!) and at one time the furniture warehouse was called "Green and Brother." So, no offense is intended to the real people.

They’d sent the carriage of course, but James had been on the train for hours and the last thing that he wanted was to be cooped up for longer. Isiah would walk the horse back to the stable later. It was a pleasant ride back to the house and James was happy to take in the crisp air. There had been a lot of building work in town since he’d last been home. Alexandria was a growing town. On the train ride back from college he’d gone through a lot of towns bustling as they grew before their citizens’ eyes. America was the country of progress and opportunity. The future was bright and exciting.

As they approached the house, the door opened, and Mary came running out. James pulled the horse to a halt and swung down. He caught Mary as she leapt up and spun her around.

‘James, James, I saw you from the window! Mama is out visiting, and papa is at the factory but I’m here and William is upstairs.’

James handed off the reins to Isiah and carried Mary into the house. ‘Have you been studying for your governess?’

‘Ugggh,’ she groaned. ‘I don’t want to talk about that. Tell me about Boston!’

James joggled her in his arms as behind them the carriage was unloaded.

James spent the rest of the day listening to Mary gossiping about people he either didn’t know or didn’t remember and settling into his bedroom. His father and brother were out at the furniture factory, a place where James had spent more of his childhood then he cared to remember. The smell of glue and resin could always transport him back there.

‘You’re back earlier than we expected!’ Abigail Green was a tall woman with soft brown curls and hazel eyes. She was still wearing her coat and gloves as she came over to kiss his cheek.

‘I wrote from the hotel,’ James protested.

‘Oh, that won’t arrive for days or longer,’ she said. She stepped back. ‘You’re so handsome.’

‘Mama, I look the same as I did when you last saw me a few weeks ago,’ James said mildly.

‘You were a boy then,’ she said. ‘Now you’re a man. Have you spoken to your father?’

James shook his head. ‘The only person here when I arrived was Mary.’

‘How shocking!’ She smiled as she took off her gloves. ‘Have no fear. We’ll make up for it this evening.’

He looked doubtful. ‘What’s happening this evening?’

‘A party of course, to celebrate your homecoming.’

James sighed. ‘Do I have a choice?’

Abigail wandered over to the windows and fussed with the drapes. ‘What a question. You’ll be saying next that you don’t want to meet all the girls coming up.’

James shuffled his feet. ‘William is unmarried still.’

Abigail pursed her lips. ‘Yes, well. William.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘I’m so very glad to have you home, James,’ she said quietly.

‘I’m very glad to be home.’

***

James’s best suit needed to be aired after so long in mothballs. Instead he was forced to take one of his other suits, still a little crushed from the trunk. He had worn it often at college and it no longer felt special or particularly attractive to him. He felt rather shabby until he saw Mary dancing around in a dress he remembered from the previous Christmas. It had been let out by the seamstress, which seemed especially strange. Mary was a growing girl. Her dresses once too tight would normally have been given to the less fortunate in the parish, or perhaps used for rags if worn particularly hard.

While James was dressing for dinner, on of the servants brought word for James to join his father for a drink in his study. Perhaps more than anything else, this was a sign that James was now a man. He had never before been invited to join his father for a drink. It was unusual for William to be invited, and he was some three years older than James.

‘Am I fit for a private drink with father?’ he asked his servant.

The other man took a step back and regarded him critically. ‘A different cravat, master,’ he advised.

James nodded. A cravat could change the whole tone of a suit. Malachi slipped a dark cravat around James’s collar, tied it into an elaborate knot, and then knelt to polish James’s shoes again.

‘I wonder what he wants to see me about,’ James wondered.

‘You paid off that broken window,’ Malachi said.

James pulled a face. ‘He wouldn’t know about that.’ He gave Malachi a doubtful look. ‘He didn’t have you spying on me, did he?’

‘Not about no broken windows, Master,’ Malachi said cheerfully.

‘What then?’

‘Broken heads and broken hearts.’

James shrugged. ‘There were little of either.’

‘Perhaps I should have made some up,’ Malachi said with a smile. ‘A roguish reputation might suit you well.’

James waved a hand. ‘I think William is enough rogue for the family.’ He looked at himself in the mirror and patted his already perfectly neat hair. ‘Several families most likely.’

***

William Senior was in his study when James knocked politely on the door. His study was his private place. Not even Abigail was permitted without express invitation.

The door was opened by a servant, who ushered James inside and shut the door behind him. William Senior was stood by the fire. James tried not to stare at the room which had been a mystery for his entire life until this point. There were shelves heaving with _hundreds_ of books. More books than James had ever seen before. The furniture was heavy mahogany inlaid with brass. A leather and mahogany globe stood by the credenza. As a child, James had been fascinated with maps. He found himself shifting slightly towards the globe and had to focus instead on his father.

‘Back from Boston then,’ Willian Senior said. ‘How was the trip?’

‘Fine, thank you, Sir,’ James said.

‘A lot of travelling.’

James hesitated, unsure if it was a question or a statement. ‘The train was a little slower than anticipated. There had been a robbery.’

‘Good Lord.’ William Senior crossed to the small bar. ‘Your mother missed you.’

James nodded. ‘Yes Sir.’

William nodded at the bottles. ‘What do you drink?’

‘I haven’t really –’

William Senior snorted. ‘You’re not a boy now, James, there’s no need to dissemble,’ he said. ‘I was your age once. I know what happens when boys are all together far from home.’

James licked his lips. ‘A little whiskey would suit me well, Sir, thank you.’

William Senior poured whiskey into a tumbler and handed it over. ‘I hope at least you know better than to adulterate it with water.’

‘I do recall hearing you say so,’ James said.

William Senior crossed back to the fireplace.

James cradled his glass in his hands, unwilling to drink more than his father. William Senior sipped his brandy and stared into the fire.

‘You’ve become a man,’ William Sr said. ‘You have all kinds of responsibilities now.’

James straightened his shoulders. ‘Yes Sir.’

‘How do you feel about that?’

James raised his eyebrows. ‘Sir?’

‘Not unknown for young men to rebel,’ William Sr said. He gestured vaguely at the door. ‘Your brother for one.’

James shuffled his feet and took a sip of his whiskey. It was a good single malt. Better than anything he’d been able to afford at college.

‘I’m not William, Sir,’ he said mildly.

William Sr nodded. ‘No.’ He turned back to James. ‘Do you have any plans?’

James’s grip tightened on the glass. ‘We spoke about my entering the business.’

‘We did. Is that what you want in the long term?’

James licked his lips. ‘I have thoughts about a hotel. There is a sore lack of one in Alexandria. It would not be for some years.’

William Sr ran his thumb along the rim of his glass. ‘You’re aware of course that William will inherit the furniture factory.’

‘Yes Sir,’ James said. ‘I am aware that I will have to make my own way. However, we have spoken about my learning business with you.’

William Sr sipped his brandy. ‘Do you have personal plans?’

James blinked. ‘Personal, Sir?’

A little redness touched William Sr’s cheeks. James was unsure if he was mortified or angry.

‘You’re a young man. You have your passions I have no doubt.’

James relaxed slightly. ‘I have no sweetheart, Sir. I thought to establish myself in business first.’

William Sr sighed. ‘In other circumstances that would be wise.’

James took a sip of his whiskey. ‘Sir?’

William Sr looked at him squarely. ‘You’re a man, now, James, so I will address you as a man. I trust that is acceptable.’

James nodded, although he was quite sure that wasn’t a question.

‘The furniture factory is in need of investment. We need new equipment to be able to meet the orders that are available and new storage space.’ William Sr took a gulp of brandy. ‘If we don’t expand then in five years there will be no furniture factory.’

James blinked and steadied himself against the armchair. ‘May I ask what you mean to do?’

William Sr was quiet for a moment. ‘I’ve discussed it with William. We are unwilling to invite the bank into our business. If you were able to invest in the company instead, become a partner, then the business would remain in the family.’

James stared at him.

‘Sit if you wish,’ William Sr said gruffly.

James sat down. ‘Sir, I… I fail to follow. Though I would gladly invest in the factory, I have no money of my own with which to do so.’

William Sr looked away. ‘It’s perfectly respectable for a man to marry into money.’

‘Marry?’

‘I was only a few years older than you are when I married,’ William Sr said.

James took a gulp of whiskey. ‘I hadn’t thought to marry until I was able to support a family.’

‘There are many very charming women coming to your party,’ William Sr said stiffly. ‘Your mother tells me so.’

James licked his lips. ‘Mother knows about this?’

William Sr snorted. ‘Naturally.’

‘But… William is older than I am,’ James said weakly.

His father poured himself another brandy. ‘William is… William.’

‘I see.’

William Sr sighed. ‘Give it some thought. Speak to your mother.’

James put down his glass. ‘Thank you for your time, Sir.’

‘You haven’t finished your drink,’ William Sr said quietly.

‘I’m sorry,’ James said. ‘I don’t feel I can savour it appropriately.’

***

Dinner was a subdued affair. Mary and Emma seemed oblivious to the overall mood and attempted to joke and jape as was their natures. James noticed very little of the sparse conversation or the meagre food. His parents spoke little. Before James had gone away to school, he would have worried that they were angry at him. Now however, while he had no desire to disappoint or upset them, he was no longer panicked at the thought. Instead he found himself increasingly angry at the situation into which he had be thrown and, more, in the lack of time he was given. The party would begin shortly after dinner and his father had specifically mentioned it in the context of finding a wife. A wife! When he had never yet entertained or courted. Had never had a sweetheart. Had not yet even exchanged the merest of flirtation.

Meanwhile William was under no pressure to court, despite being of an age when most of his friends were marrying and some were welcoming their first children.

James’s disposition was poor as he changed for the party. Malachi knew him well enough to ask no questions as he helped James into another suit, this one with a jaunty cravat that seemed to mock James’s mood.

James went downstairs when he heard the visitors begin to arrive. William, having arrived very late to dinner, had simply remained downstairs, bothering the servants, while they set up for the party. He clearly hadn’t changed or even refreshed himself.

As James came down the stairs, William caught his attention and waved him over. A servant gave James a drink as he crossed in front of the piano.

‘I half thought that you might have climbed from the window and run off into the night,’ William said.

‘Your room is the one with the tree,’ James said. ‘I would break my leg jumping from a window.’

‘Ah, you have no romance in your soul,’ William chided. 

‘If I ran away it would be in great part due to an excess of romance in my soul,’ James said sourly.

William nudged him gently. ‘They were not pleased to have to ask you.’

James gulped his drink. ‘Yet they didn’t ask you.’

William chuckled. ‘They have been throwing young ladies at me since I came home from school. The difference is that a bride with sufficient fortune to save the factory will have family or friends to protect them from unscrupulous men. I would never get past them!’

‘And I would? My purpose is no different to yours,’ James protested.

His older brother smiled slightly as he looked at him. It was a smile tinged with sadness. ‘But you are an honourable and decent man who would treat his wife with respect and dignity regardless of whether he loved her or loathed her.’

James took a step back. ‘Loathe her?’

William waved his hand. ‘You’re no farmhand or cropper living in one room with three generations of the family. You will be at business most of the day and then in your study or library in the evening. You do not even have to share a bedroom if you prefer not to do so. With good fortune you will see her only at breakfast and dinner.’

James pressed his hand to his forehead. ‘William, when I marry, I want a _family_! A wife and children. A wife who is a companion and helpmeet. I could live with _you_ if all I wished was company for mealtimes.’

‘I would be good company at mealtimes,’ William agreed.

James rolled his eyes. ‘You are not good company now.’

William put his hand on James’s arm. ‘I have no taste for becoming father. I didn’t realise that you did.’

James sighed. ‘I am not ready to be married.’

William shrugged. ‘You are readier than I am. You will be a good husband and father.’ He drained his drink. ‘Look now, there are some pretty ladies. Mother will be able to tell you which of them have heavy pocketbooks.’

James winced. ‘Perhaps they could bid for me at auction like a prize pig.’

Abigail swept down the steps and over towards them. James set his shoulders as William smirked at him and then stepped away.

‘You aren’t mingling with your guests, James,’ she scolded.

‘Are they my guests? Am to have no decisions of my own?’ he asked.

She sighed and put her hand on his chest. ‘Elizabeth River is over there. She’s too shy to chat easily.’

‘Who?’

‘Elizabeth McClennan as was,’ Abigail said. ‘Her father is Adam McClennan?’

James pulled a face. ‘Did he not lose all his money in poor investments?’

‘Several times,’ Abigail said dryly. ‘But Elizabeth married well. She was widowed and is nearly at the end of her mourning.’

James stared at her. ‘A widow? What? How old is this lady?’

Abigail pursed her lips. ‘She is only twenty-nine, James. Women marry men old enough to be their fathers. Or grandfathers.’

‘That is not the point!’

Abigail folded her arms. ‘She is a sweet, gentle woman who married very young. She will understand any qualms that you have.’

James set his jaw. ‘Either I am a man, or I am a boy. If I am a man who may be married, then I will marry the woman of my choosing and not one picked for me by my parents.’

Abigail raised her eyebrows. ‘And this sulking is how you demonstrate your manliness?’

James met her gaze. ‘I do not have to prove anything.’

Abigail sighed. ‘No, you do not. This is distressing and unpleasant for all of us but of course most of all for you. You will do of course what you must. Nonetheless, please at least speak to Mrs River. She is a demure woman of good nature who made a most unfortunate match with her husband. I’m sure that she would like to talk to you.’

James nodded and kissed her cheek. ‘As you wish, Mother.’

There was a flurry of movement as the Muir family arrived. James glanced towards the door. Mr Muir was William Sr’s lawyer and therefore an occasional visitor at the Green family home. Mrs Muir was less familiar, but she was a handsome woman with a flair for bright and exotic clothing.

Behind them their only daughter Jane followed. James had only seen her in passing before he went away to school. He had remembered her as a small, scrawny girl always climbing and running, feet bare, and smudges on her face. She was usually more noticeable for the servants chasing after her to dress properly and wash her face.

Now though she was a beautiful young woman, with dark, flashing eyes and tumbling chestnut hair. She was a couple of years younger than James and her features still had the slight blur of childhood. She looked around the room with frank and honest interest. There was an intelligence in her gaze and, as she briefly met James’s eyes, a lively humour.

James looked away as her gaze swept on. He straightened his sleeves and looked around instead for Mrs River. James was aware of the younger women clustered around in small groups, chatting and giggling together as he turned around.

‘By the windows,’ Abigail murmured.

‘How old is she?’ James asked.

‘Barely twenty-nine!’ Abigail protested. ‘She is still of marriageable age.’

James lowered his voice. ‘Anyone may marry, ma’am, not everyone may bear children.’

Abigail threw up her hands. ‘So much money for your education and this is an example of what you believe?’

James scowled at her. ‘It would hardly be appropriate for me to be taught about the intimate facts of women.’

‘I suppose not,’ she said grudgingly. ‘However, I was older than she is when I gave birth to your sisters.’

They both straightened their backs as William Sr walked across to them. ‘This is hardly the way to look after your guests, James.’

‘I apologise, Sir,’ James said.

‘He is reluctant to speak to Mrs River,’ Abigail said.

William Sr blew out his breath. ‘Perhaps another time. The journey was long and stressful.’

James pushed back his hair. ‘Would not another lady be more appropriate? Miss Muir is very comely.’

‘Miss Muir is too young,’ William Sr said.

‘In a few years though – ’ James began.

Abigail raised her eyebrows. ‘Miss Muir is far too _lively_ for you, James. When she is old enough, I’m sure that her parents will direct her to a husband who can provide a strong guiding hand.’

***

James had been in and out of the factory since early childhood. He recognised many of the faces. People said that it was easy not to notice slaves or servants. They were there in the background of rooms or lurking in corridors. They fetched this and disposed of that. Yet James did notice them. He did not typically engage them in conversation beyond that which was necessary, and he had never “fraternised,” something he suspected was less common than his schoolmates had claimed. He noticed that several of the women in the finishing department were pregnant and that a lot of the young boys he remembered sweeping floors had grown now into gangling young men.

He was shown the books, which were a complex mess of numbers of which he had no understanding, and the prototypes for the new lines which they were producing.

‘We simply cannot produce the numbers required for the new orders,’ the foreman said.

‘We’re working on the investment,’ William Sr said.

‘But as of yet we are not losing money?’ James said.

The other men exchanged looks.

‘There’s a point where not thriving ceases to be a plateau and instead prologues failure,’ William Sr said.

William put his hands in his pockets. ‘We aren’t losing money _yet_ ,’ he said.

James chewed his lower lip. ‘A loan from the bank is not possible?’

‘Banks foreclose,’ William Sr said. ‘They sell debts on to men who would strip thriving businesses down to the carcass and make soup from the bones. No bank.’ He shook his head. ‘You wished to be treated as a man, James. This is the truth. We need you to be a man.’

***

Dinner parties were the province of adults alone. As a child, James had wondered how they differed from simply eating dinner. As an adult he was disappointed but not surprised that the difference was largely in eating dinner with people you knew little and perhaps liked even less.

After rescuing James from the frenzied attentions of the hostess, Abigail steered him to the other side of the room.

Elizabeth River, a slight woman with pale blue eyes and ash blonde hair, had transitioned to half mourning and was wearing a dove grey dress. She was apparently listening to Mary playing the piano as James and Abigail walked over. The fact that she wasn’t covering her ears suggested that she wasn’t in fact paying very close attention. Elizabeth clasped her hands together tightly as Abigail smiled at her.

‘Mrs River, may I introduce my younger son, James? I don’t believe that you’ve met before.’

‘Mrs River,’ James said, managing a polite smile. ‘My condolences.’

‘Mr Green,’ she said offering her hand. ‘Thank you.’

Abigail touched her elbow. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I should attend to my husband.’

‘Certainly,’ Mrs River said. She waited a moment before turning back to James. She licked her lips. ‘Doubtless everyone is asking you for your future plans.’

James chuckled slightly. ‘It seems to be the case.’

Mrs River smiled. ‘We all remember what it was to be young and with the whole of your future stretching out in front of you.’

‘I fear too much of my future is already being proscribed,’ he admitted. 

She nodded. ‘Yes. When I was sixteen my father told me that I was to marry his business partner.’

James winced. ‘I have heard of such things.’

‘They are by no means rare,’ she said dryly.

James shook his head. ‘Might I ask how long you have been in mourning?’

‘Henry died fourteen months ago,’ Mrs River said. She rolled her eyes. ‘He fell from a horse when he was drunk.’

James opened and closed his mouth. ‘I had not heard that.’

‘I believe the code in the newspaper is that he was “indisposed” and fell,’ she said. ‘There are many codes used in newspapers.’

James raised his eyebrows. ‘Did you husband own a newspaper?’

She nodded. ‘A newspaper, two mills, and a great deal of land. Is business something that interests you, Mr Green?’

He shifted his feet. ‘It is, although I only know a little about the furniture business. I have…’ He shook his head. ‘I have a pipe dream of building a hotel.’

For the first time she looked genuinely interested. ‘A hotel in Alexandria?’

‘Indeed,’ James said. ‘The nearest hotel is in Washington, which is near a day’s ride away. Alexandria is a growing town. As well as men of business we have a cornucopia of visitors of all different status and needs.’

She was thoughtful. ‘So you would distinguish the amenities available and ensure that people are only expected to mingle with their own class?’

‘Certainly,’ James said. ‘It is the only way for guests to feel comfortable.’

‘That would be very costly,’ she observed.

James shrugged. ‘I had planned to join my father’s business and, some years in the future, when I was financially secure, I would consider the hotel.’

‘I see,’ she said. ‘You have a long-term plan.’

‘I’m the younger son,’ he said. ‘I will inherit very little. I need to shift for myself.’

She pursed her lips. ‘I rather think my father hopes to inherit from me.’

James laughed, more from surprise and embarrassment than genuine humour. ‘Is he in town?’

She set her shoulders. ‘Not yet. He wrote to me that when he finishes his current business in Paris he will be travelling here.’

James tipped his head. ‘Forgive me, you seem… somewhat ambivalent about his proposed arrival.’

She sighed. ‘I wish that I were ambivalent. I know my father too well to anticipate his journey is for any other reason than to make sport with my fortune.’

James winced. ‘You have your majority,’ he said mildly. ‘He has no right to your fortune.’

Mrs River gave him a knowing look. ‘True, yet even when we are adults our parents may hold enormous sway over us. Is that not so?’

James nodded. ‘I fear it is,’ he said quietly.

***

As they took their seats, Abigail gently patted James’s hand. ‘How do you like her?’ she whispered.

‘I am sure that she is a very proper sort of woman,’ he said, licking his lips.

‘No spark of passion?’ Abigail asked.

He shook his head. ‘Marriage seems a hard journey to make with a companion for who I have no love.’

‘Well, love can come in time,’ she whispered, as Elizabeth took her seat. ‘A couple well-suited in temperament and kind dispositions with share a happier life that two who are rushed into marriage by passion.’

‘Even with such a difference of age?’

Abigail shrugged. ‘Older women are either kind or bitter. A kind woman will help you grow into a gentleman.’

William Sr cleared his throat and they fell quiet. The servants began putting out the food. James looked at his plate as conversations began to pick up. As much as he would wish for a wife that he loved, he had other worries rolling around in his mind like a pebble in his shoe. Elizabeth was ten years older than he was, more than half his life. She had been married before, and to a man of wealth and power. It was the duty of a husband to teach and guide his wife. How could James guide and teach a wife who was so much older and more experienced than he was?

Elizabeth was sat opposite him. When he looked up to take a sip of his soup, she gave him an anxious smile.

‘I think I saw your carriage this morning,’ Abigail said to her.

‘Perhaps,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I sent it for Doctor Crawshaw.’

‘I hope that you are not unwell,’ James said stiffly.

She shook her head. ‘It was not for me.’

‘Crawshaw is the slave doctor, is he not?’ William Sr asked. ‘He checks our men at the factory to ensure they are strong enough for the work.’

‘You sent your carriage for a slave?’ William asked.

‘They can be costly,’ James said helpfully.

Elizabeth gave him a grateful smile. ‘They can,’ she said. She played with her spoon. ‘Sarah is not a sickly child by nature.’

‘You keep children?’ James asked, surprised.

Elizabeth licked her lips. ‘Training house slaves from childhood is the best way to ensure that they know the particular ways that I have.’

James sipped his soup. ‘Are you very particular, Mrs River?’

Abigail kicked his ankle.

Elizabeth flushed. ‘Oh… I’m sure that we all have things about which we are particular.’

‘James is ridiculously particular about his cravats,’ William said lightly.

James pulled a face. ‘Clearly you are not remotely particular about yours.’

‘A cravat can be the making or breaking of a man’s suit,’ Elizabeth suggested. Her voice quavered slightly as she spoke.

‘Men should take more care of their appearance,’ Abigail said. ‘Why should only women be expected to look attractive?’

William Sr frowned. ‘Beauty is to be cherished in a woman and despised in a man.’

For a moment, James caught Elizabeth’s eye. She gave him just the slightest and swiftest amused smile.

***

William was nowhere to be found. This was no surprise, especially at the factory. William was easily bored for all he would work hard. William Sr waved James off to look for the other man. James had no interest in protesting too much as the factory was hot and the air was heavy with sawdust and the stink of resin. It was a relief to be in the cool air outside. James loosened his collar as he walked out of the building. He looked around, more from an automatic instinct than any interest in the world around him.

A patrol of soldiers was making its way slowly down the street, poking their rifles into bushes and stopping carts on the street. A runaway slave then. It was not unknown, even here. James watched them for a minute or two and then turned back, making his way around the perimeter of the site. There were storerooms and privies behind the factory. If William was napping, which James suspected, then he could do worse than the storerooms.

The clouds were gently parting as James made his way to the back of the building and sunshine fought through. The weather had been unseasonably cold, and James was tired of being constantly chilly. As he reached the wood seasoning store, he pulled his jacket more tightly around him.

While the house had the brand-new gas lighting, despite William Sr’s dislike of innovations, the stores were still dependent on candlelight. When James stepped into the store, there was already the tell-tale soft orange nimbus of candlelight creeping around the corner. James didn’t bother to grab a candle and light it, but instead followed the light.

It took him a moment to understand what he saw. The light was soft and suffuse, barely illuminating the entwined bodies on the floor.

‘William?’ James asked.

There was a blur of shocked silence, followed by frantic movement and an overlapping aural collage of voices raised in panic.

James ran from the room, turning away from the route back, desperate to avoid seeing anyone for as long as possible.

‘James, stop!’

He turned around for a moment. William was stood in the doorway to the wood seasoning store. In the brighter light, James realised that the other man was Henry Roscoe, a lifelong friend of William’s.

‘You should tend to your attire, William,’ James growled, walking away. ‘It will hardly be good for discipline if you are seen running around in your shirt-tails.’

William shoved his shirttails into his trousers. ‘Don’t tell father.’

‘Why would I do that to him?’ James demanded.

‘I know that this appears –’ William stopped and cocked his head. ‘Did you hear that?’

James nodded and gestured at the shed next to him. William and Henry stayed back as James pulled the door open. There was a clatter as a slave in ragged clothing fell back. James sighed.

‘Are you the one for whom the soldiers are looking?’ he asked.

‘Let me go and I won’t tell!’ he said.

‘Until he’s caught,’ Henry said.

They looked at him.

‘He does not know us,’ Henry said. ‘Why would he not surrender?’

William blew out his cheeks. ‘Very well.’ He took out his billfold and counted out bills.

‘What’s that?’ the slave asked.

‘Better for us all if you are not caught then,’ William said. ‘Money helps that.’

James put his hands on his hips. ‘Stay in there until dark,’ he advised. ‘When you come out, follow the train tracks.’

The slave snatched the money from William. ‘As you say.’ He ducked back into the shed, slamming the door shut.

James looked at William. ‘You should pray that he succeeds.’

***

Malachi brushed off James’s coat as James fussed with his hair.

‘Mrs River keeps a different house since Mr River died,’ Malachi said.

‘Is that what her slaves say?’ James asked.

‘Yes, Sir,’ Malachi said. ‘A good mistress they say.’

James looked at him. ‘Mr River was a poor master?’

Malachi raised his hands. ‘I would never say such a thing.’

James pursed his lips. ‘Certainly not.’ He turned to Malachi. ‘Do you know Mrs River?’

‘Only by reputation, master.’

‘From her slaves.’

‘Yes, master.’

James tapped his foot. ‘Ladies work very diligently to craft their reputations in front of their families and suitors. Perhaps they are more naturally themselves when the only witnesses are slaves.’

‘You might say so, Master,’ Malachi agreed.

James rolled his eyes. ‘Malachi, _what_ is the lady’s reputation with her slaves?’

Malachi shrugged. ‘Mostly fair. A little too obliging with some folks, like her daddy. The old master kept her from being so compliant that she gave away her pride or her fortune.’

‘She needs a husband to protect her from the wolves?’ James asked.

‘She would have been glad of someone to protect her from her husband,’ Malachi said.

James shuddered. ‘I see.’

Malachi helped him into his coat. ‘I fear I would fall asleep if I were to listen to music for an hour.’

‘I may do that,’ James said. ‘Yet there will be company there as well as Mrs River.’ He paused for a moment. ‘What reputation does Miss Muir have?’

Malachi blinked. ‘Miss Muir, Sir?’

James set his shoulders. ‘Miss Jane Muir.’

‘Oh,’ Malachi said with a little too much meaning. ‘The young lady who refuses to be courted.’

‘She does?’

Malachi’s nose wrinkled. ‘Too young, she says.

‘Sixteen is young,’ James said a little wistfully.

‘I’ve heard that some consider her rather pert.’

‘Some say that, do they?’ James asked dryly. 

Malachi handed James his hat. ‘Enjoy the recital, Master,’ he said.

‘The company if not the music,’ James said.

***

The truth was that his mother had arranged things. The idea of marrying anyone with whom he had barely exchanged a few hundred words was terrifying. If nothing else, he needed to see Elizabeth without the presence of his parents. He could be more himself without them there and perhaps she could as well. However, meeting without chaperones interfering was difficult. An evening of music was perhaps the only option for them to speak without constraint.

The recitals were at the Assembly Rooms in Alexandria. It was a short carriage ride from the house. When James had been away, he would have walked such a distance but that was impossible under the current circumstances. He could not risk splashing his boots and trousers. Arriving for an evening with Mrs River in stained clothing would be offensive in the extreme. As much as James would rather the entire situation disappear, he was certainly not willing to insult a widow. Let alone a widow who seemed as trapped in the situation as he was. 

There was a fierce fire burning in the assembly room although it dissipated quickly in the large room. James had already removed his hat, but left his coat buttoned. As he moved closer to the fire, he unbuttoned his gloves and carefully removed them. He had asked if he should pick up Mrs River in his carriage but had been told that it was unnecessary. She lived on the other side of Alexandria. It was something he had not previously considered. She had her own establishment, a furnished home which she had inherited from her husband. James would be expected to move into her home, surrounded by her belongings, and be fed, bathed, and dressed by her slaves. He would have to step into the groove carved by another man, in almost every part of his life.

‘Mr Green?’

James turned towards the bright, cheerful voice. ‘Oh, Miss Muir,’ he said, straightening his sleeves.

She smiled impishly. ‘I know that we should probably be formally introduced, but I am quite sure that we must have spoken when we were both children.’

‘I believe you once threw an apple at me,’ James said helpfully.

‘You see, we are friends already,’ she said.

‘Are you here with your parents?’

She nodded. ‘They will not let me walk more than three steps together without a chaperone.’ She lowered her voice. ‘My cousin ran away with a scoundrel, and I think my parents fear the same.’

‘How shocking,’ James said. ‘Do they fear you may play the role of cousin or scoundrel?’

He was unsure why he said it. Their acquaintance was so slight that even light teasing was entirely inappropriate.

Miss Muir laughed heartily. ‘Oh, I _hope_ that they consider me a scoundrel!’

James smiled. The firelight was reflecting in her dancing eyes.

She stepped slightly closer. ‘Are you here with your parents?’

James shook his head. ‘I am meeting Mrs River here,’ he said more quietly.

Miss Muir looked baffled. ‘Is she a member of your family?’

‘No, she… Pardon me, there she is.’ James politely raised his hand as Elizabeth came in through the entrance. He turned back to Miss Muir and braced himself. ‘My family wish me to marry Mrs River.’

Miss Muir’s mouth dropped open. ‘Oh…’

Elizabeth crossed to them and smiled politely at Miss Muir. ‘Mr Green, perhaps you might introduce me?’

James felt himself redden. ‘My apologies. Mrs River may I introduce Miss Jane Muir.’

The two women politely shook hands.

‘I adore your stole,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I hope you’ll let me have the name of your furrier.’

‘Thank you so much,’ Jane said. ‘I will send around the details if you will tell me your cordwainer.’

‘Good boots are so important in the cold weather,’ Elizabeth said.

Jane glanced away and annoyance flashed across her face. ‘My parents wish to take our seats so I will have to take my leave. It was very pleasant to meet you, Mrs River.’

‘And you, Miss Muir,’ Elizabeth said graciously.

Jane flashed James a playful smile. ‘Mr Green.’

‘Miss Muir,’ he said, bowing politely.

They watched her sashay away.

James turned to Elizabeth and awkwardly offered her his arm. ‘Shall we take our seats?’

She looked at him for a second before taking his arm. ‘Are you much acquainted with Miss Muir?’

‘Very little,’ he said. ‘I was of an age with her brother Robert.’

‘Ah.’ Elizabeth said carefully. ‘I believe that he was taken by influenza?’

James nodded. ‘Yes, in the outbreak ten years ago. I was confined at the same time but was not afflicted to nearly such a great extent.’

They settled in their seats at the front of the assembly room.

‘That must have been a difficult time,’ Elizabeth said.

‘I was too young to fully understand what was happening,’ James admitted.

She glanced across the room. ‘Miss Muir is a little younger?’

James crossed his legs at the knee. ‘Three years younger.’

‘I see.’ Elizabeth straightened her skirts.

Something in her tone caught James’s attention. ‘There is a larger difference between myself and my sisters,’ he said cautiously.

Elizabeth chewed her lower lip. ‘If your families were close, I wonder that there was no thought of you courting Miss Muir.’

James looked at her. She was staring at her hands in her lap.

‘I have not seen her since I went to school,’ James said. ‘She was a little girl.’

Elizabeth looked up at him. ‘I see.’

‘Also, I have been told that she is entirely too pert to consider courtship at the moment,’ he said wryly.

Elizabeth smiled slightly. ‘That is what men say when they are unable to control a woman.’

‘I have observed that,’ James agreed. ‘I must confess I do not understand the desire to control any woman.’

She touched the back of his hand. ‘I had forgotten how young you are.’

‘I thought that I would have some years before I began courting,’ he said.

‘I did not feel ready for courtship,’ she admitted. ‘Perhaps nobody does.’

‘Do you worry that we are being rushed into a conclusion we will regret?’ James asked.

Elizabeth sighed as the musicians came out to take their seats. ‘Yes, however more time and knowledge does not prevent regret. Henry was my father’s business partner. I knew him from childhood. Marrying him was still a mistake.’

‘You knew him when you were a child?’ James asked, his face wrinkling in disgust.

She smiled. 

‘It’s not entirely unknown,’ she said.

‘Even so,’ he said. ‘When one as an adult has known a young child, I cannot imagine ever considering them as a romantic partner.’

‘Not even Miss Muir?’ she teased.

James rolled his eyes. ‘When I left for school, we were both children. Now I have returned we are both adults, or very nearly so.’ He half turned towards her. ‘Mrs River, I know that this is a difficult time for both of us, but it is my intention to behave honourably.’

‘I apologise,’ she said quietly. ‘I meant no insult to your honour. You seem to be a decent and good-natured man. My most pressing need is for a man who will defend me from the predations of those who would seize my fortune. I have no expectation of love, but my _preference_ is a man who will be kind.’

James nodded. ‘Kindness is a much-underrated virtue, in women as well as men.’

She smiled. ‘Yet not impossible.’


	2. Chapter 2

There was the threat of ice in the air. James shivered as Malachi buttoned up his shirt. He was not entirely sure that his shivering was entirely due to the cold air.

The wedding suit was uncomfortable but there was nothing to be done. Even if changing was acceptable, his wardrobe had been packed away in trunks, ready to be transported to Mrs River’s home. Elizabeth’s home. His home.

Anyway, changing was not acceptable. They were matched in social rank, but he was considerably the poorer as well as being younger. There had been gossip, he knew. Whispers that he was a rake, or a fortune hunter were unsurprising, and perhaps not entirely unfair, however he had been offended and hurt at the more salacious stories suggesting that he meant to rob and abandon her. Or worse. He blamed the crime stories that were so popular in the news sheets.

‘Shall I fetch the master?’ Malachi suggested.

James looked at him blankly. ‘The master?’

Malachi clasped his hands together. ‘You seem uneasy, Sir.’

James snorted. ‘And you imagine that my father could somehow make me _less_ uneasy?’

Malachi smiled slightly. ‘Ah. No, Sir.’

James set his shoulders. ‘He wishes to speak to me,’ he said quietly. ‘I fear that he means to speak to me on the matter of my husbandly duties.’

Malachi nodded. ‘Ah.’

‘I do not wish to talk to my father about matters of _that_ nature,’ James insisted.

There was a tap on the door. ‘James, are you dressed?’ William Senior asked.

James groaned softly. ‘Yes, Sir.’

Malachi went to open the door and then went to wait in the corner of the room.

William Senior seemed almost to hesitate for a moment before entering. James could not remember that ever happening before. William Senior rubbed his hands together as he shut the door behind him and walked into the room.

James realised that he had never before known his father to be _nervous_. It was as likely and understandable as a great oak suddenly crumbling into splinters.

‘Your mother had your suit made,’ William Senior said.

‘Sir,’ James said, clasping his hands together very tightly.

‘Mine was grey,’ William Senior said, looking around the room.

‘This colour is the fashion,’ James said. ‘So, I am told.’

‘You have not yet seen Mrs River today.’

‘No, Sir,’ James said. ‘I imagine that she is dressing at home.’

William Senior nodded. ‘An important day. Ladies sometimes focus on the day: the dress, the party, and the food. They think of the wedding as the end of the courtship not the beginning of the marriage.’

James winced. ‘I am aware of that, Sir. I have given it much thought.’

William Senior looked down at his feet. ‘As a husband you will have certain responsibilities and duties.’

‘Mrs River has allowed me access to the household accounts so that I may familiarise myself,’ James said.

William Senior nodded. ‘There are other duties. Personal duties. Intimate duties, as it were.’

James felt himself growing red. ‘Marital duties.’

‘Just so,’ William Senior said. He looked out of the windows. ‘When you were away at school…’

James waited patiently.

William Senior cleared his throat. ‘Young men away from home can run a little wild. Cities have certain temptations. Drink. Gambling. Women.’

James raised his eyebrows. ‘Sir?’

William Senior forced himself to look at James. ‘Young men have their peccadillos and I know that anything you did was done in moderation.’

James opened and closed his mouth. ‘I engaged in some small drinking, Sir, but I _never_ wagered.’

William Senior nodded. ‘And women?’

James shook his head, silently.

William Senior sighed. ‘Well, your wife will be able to guide you. I am sure that she will be able to teach everything that you need to know.’

James swallowed.

William Senior took a deep breath and held out his hand. ‘I would wish you to know that I am proud of your achievements and the actions that you are taking for the family.’

James took a deep breath and took his father’s hand. He realised that both of their hands were shaking. ‘Thank you, Sir.’

William Senior cleared his throat. ‘Ensure that you are not tardy,’ he muttered.

‘No, Sir,’ James said.

***

Abigail ran across to James and grabbed his hands. ‘You look so handsome.’

‘The suit that you chose helps to no small degree,’ James said, taking her arm and walking her to the door.

‘Take the compliment,’ she scolded.

‘Yes, Ma’am,’ he said meekly.

She looked up at him. ‘Your father spoke to you?’

‘Yes, he asked if I gambled when I was away at school and said that married men have more responsibilities.’

Abigail dug her elbow into his ribs. ‘You are being deliberately obtuse.’

‘He was entirely obscure,’ James said.

A slave opened the door.

‘Elizabeth is a woman with a gentle nature, if perhaps a bruised heart. Your responsibility is to cherish and protect her,’ Abigail said. ‘Everything you do should be in service of that. Everything else will come along in time.’

‘I wish I shared your certainty,’ James admitted.

Abigail squeezed his arm. ‘You will be an excellent husband, James. I know you will.’

***

There was light music playing as refreshments were elegantly handed around. James braced himself against the bookcase. He had eaten little of his breakfast and that had been many hours earlier. Several drinks had been pressed into his hand by friends whom he suspected rather hoped to see him tired and emotional. He had managed to discard two of them before Elizabeth noticed and gently told him that provided he ate something then a small glass might help him to relax a little.

James made a vague assent and drifted towards the food. By now all the congratulations had been made and best wishes given which meant that he and Elizabeth were no longer the focus but instead a simple curiosity to be perfunctorily acknowledged in passing.

‘You should eat something more nourishing than that.’

James looked at Jane Muir, who was playfully wagging her finger at him.

‘My appetite is somewhat diminished,’ he admitted.

‘The excitement,’ she suggested, but she sounded unconvinced.

‘Perhaps so,’ James said. ‘I am wearing a new suit.’

‘That is extremely exciting,’ Jane agreed, smiling. ‘It is quite comely.’

James ate a bite of food. ‘My brother is quite irritated to find himself subject to many comments that he will be marrying next.’

‘Every married person seems driven to curse bachelors and spinsters to join their ranks,’ Jane said. ‘Then, once ensnared, to have children as soon as humanly possible.’

James was quiet for a moment. ‘You dislike children?’

‘I lack the distance from childhood which would allow me to have the rosy, bucolic view of children,’ Jane said. ‘The memory is too fresh.’ She smiled. ‘Doubtless when I am old, married, and fat I shall feel differently.’

‘You do not have to be old and fat to marry!’ James chuckled.

‘I shall be,’ she said. ‘When I am young, I will be having far too much fun.’

‘And fat?’

She shrugged. ‘It is a natural consequence of having such a great deal of fun. A badge of life lived well.’

‘Having fun is living well?’ James asked.

Jane raised her eyebrows. ‘We will have years to be sensible and proper. That is the task of the old. The task of the young is to enjoy life. Where would we be if old people had fun and we were responsible?’

‘We would have a good deal more to look forward to in our dotage,’ James suggested.

Jane tipped her head to the side. ‘I think you are very responsible by nature, Mr Green.’

‘I think you exaggerate how flighty you are,’ he countered.

‘Perhaps.’ She turned slightly and curtseyed as William Junior approached.

‘Miss Muir,’ he said, bowing. ‘I fear my brother is monopolising you. Barely a married man and already using his prerogative to bore young ladies.’

She smiled sweetly. ‘I fear he will have to learn how to bore. Perhaps you might be able to offer him some hints. If you Gentlemen will excuse me, I should attend to my mother.’

William Junior raised his eyebrows as he looked at James. ‘Good Lord. We should pray she never talks to Father. I think that kind of impertinence might kill him.’

‘You are not father,’ James said dryly.

‘True.’ William Junior lowered his voice. ‘And you are not me. You cannot spend so much time flirting with unmarried ladies, least of all at your wedding!’

‘I was _not_ –’

‘You were,’ William Junior insisted. He sighed as he put his hand on James’s shoulder. ‘You are so much responsible than I am, James, but in some respects, you are far younger even than your years. However discreet and subtle you imagine your regard for Miss Muir, you are wrong.’

James felt his cheeks burn as he looked away. ‘I will not be lectured by a man who “courts” in storerooms.’

William Junior rubbed his eyes. ‘You will accept though that I do entirely know what it is to be unable to publicly express regard.’

James shook his head. ‘I hardly know her.’

‘It is quite obvious that you prefer her,’ William Junior said more gently. ‘That cannot be. You _know_ that. Avoid her as long as you must, anything else is folly.’

‘I have a wife,’ James said firmly. ‘I have made a commitment. I will honour it. I have no intention of anything else.’

William Junior shrugged. ‘Then I shall instead tease you mercilessly about your wedding night.’

James groaned. ‘Must you?’

‘I must! It is the duty of every elder brother to embarrass the younger.’ William Junior nudged him with his shoulder. ‘Hopefully to disperse some of your anxiety of your wedding night with humour.’

‘It is not working,’ James said sourly.

‘You have no need to be anxious. Your Elizabeth will be able to teach you anything you need to know I am quite sure.’

‘Will she teach me how to be comfortable performing my duty with someone whom I barely know?’ James asked. ‘Can _you_ tell me?’

William Junior clasped his hands together. ‘I knew little or nothing the first few times that I was intimate with someone. It was frightening, confusing, and exhilarating. Nature finds a way, James. You will find a way.’

***

The last few guests were leaving, finally giving in to the night drawing in.

Any courage that James had drunk had worn off hours ago. Nonetheless it was not entirely anxiety that occupied him as he walked about the alien house in which he was now to spend his life. He had always known that he would have to move out of the Green family home when he married. He had always assumed that he would choose his own or possibly build his own. Something warm and comforting. This house was markedly larger than the Green house, with echoing rooms and a warren of corridors. Dark paintings loomed on the walls and shadows pooled in the corners. It was nothing he would have chosen. Would Elizabeth consent to change? He was not even sure if it was his place to suggest it. Home was after all the province of women.

As he progressed along a corridor the flickering light caught a sliver of deeper darkness in the wall. A slight protrusion where one seemed to have no business being. James ran his fingers along it and pulled just slightly. With a breath of cooler air, a hidden door swung open.

James grinned. It was probably nothing more than a servant’s passage. He had heard of such things although the Green home had none.

Even so, it was impossible to resist. James was not much given to mischief or adventure, but this, he felt, was likely his last opportunity for either.

He propped the door open with a chair, fearing becoming trapped, and tentatively made his way into the dark corridor beyond.

James was not a heavy-set man, but the corridor was narrow enough to be noticeable. The walls were thin enough that, as he walked, he could hear the echo of voices and the resonance of movement in the rooms adjoining.

He stumbled on a step. There were half a dozen shallow steps heading down to a door. He tried to envision where he now was in the house, but he knew the building too little and the corridor had twisted and turned too greatly.

There were voices beyond the door, which at least meant he was not about to blunder out into the garden. Instead, when he opened the door, he found in a large brightly lit room, surrounded by startled slaves.

‘Master James?’ Malachi squeaked. He was at near the head of the long, battered table. His shirt was unbuttoned, and he had a mug of ale in his hand.

The others were similarly disordered and eating or drinking. It was as alien a thing as ever James could remember seeing.

‘I… My apologies,’ James said, feeling somehow that he had breached something unspoken but significant. ‘I saw the door open and only meant to acquaint myself better with the house.’

‘This is the kitchen, Master,’ said the cook, rushing forward. ‘If we had known –’

‘No, no,’ James interrupted, making her flinch and step back. ‘I have no business being here. Please, continue your meal.’

Malachi stood up. ‘I will take you up to your room, Master.’

‘Tilly will do that,’ the cook said firmly. ‘She is the ladies’ maid and should be attending to the mistress shortly.’

A young girl stood up, setting aside the small child on her lap, and curtseyed to James. As he looked around, he noticed there were four other children of various ages. All of them watching him with wide-eyed fear.

***

‘There you are,’ Elizabeth said, her voice catching as Tilly led James into the bedroom. ‘I have been waiting.’

‘Do you mean me or Tilly?’ James asked.

Elizabeth laughed but wrung her hands. ‘I was also wondering where you were.’

James gestured vaguely at Tilly. ‘I fear I may have delayed her.’

A look of panic crossed Elizabeth’s face. She glanced at Tilly, who shook her head.

‘Have I misspoken?’ James asked.

‘No,’ Elizabeth said. She tilted her head. ‘Perhaps… Perhaps you might help me undress, James?’

‘Oh.’ He felt himself flush and forced a smile. ‘Certainly.’

Elizabeth stood by the bed. ‘Tilly, please show the master how to untie my corset. Then you can leave.’

Tilly made a sound of assent. James stood awkwardly as the two women carefully removed Elizabeth’s dress.

‘I hope you are not very shocked at the notion of a lady undressing,’ Elizabeth said mildly. ‘Some ladies never allow their husbands to see any of the work of being a lady. I think too much mystery is unhealthy in a marriage.’

James took a deep breath. ‘I am entirely happy to accept your judgement.’

She bit her lower lip. ‘I do not mean to presume on your authority.’

He laughed slightly. ‘I would lie if I said I felt I had any.’

Her face fell. ‘Oh! I had no intention of…’

James waved his hands. ‘I meant no accusation.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I never courted before and I never… made use of such opportunities arose. I am entirely your pupil.’ He shrugged. ‘I have made my peace with that. I think.’

Elizabeth turned away as Tilly moved to untie the complex array of knots securing her corset.

‘I am sure that you will soon feel comfortable and certain in your position,’ she said encouragingly.

‘I hope that you are right.’

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder. ‘Would you care to unlace me?’

James nodded, and took Tilly’s place as the maid left. He had seen drawings of corsets, in the kind of pamphlets that were handed around by schoolboys and sniggered over. He had never seen a real one, let alone one being worn. He had not expected the weight and inflexibility of the whale bone or the tension of the lacings. As he pulled the long lacings through the rings the weft and warp rubbed at his fingers.

Finally, the laces were loose enough for him to pull the edges of the corset apart. As he peeled the tight material away, Elizabeth let forth a soft groan.

‘Good Lord,’ James said, staring at the red stripes across her back and about her waist. ‘Does this not cause you extreme distress?’

She looked at him over her shoulder. ‘No more than any other woman I am sure.’ She smiled. ‘The pursuit of beauty can be a cruel mistress.’

James was by no means appeased. ‘Do you have salve? There must be something that can be done.’

She turned around slightly to better face him. He averted his eyes.

‘There is salve on the dresser,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you might help me with it.’

James licked his lips and nodded. As he fetched the salve, Elizabeth put aside the corset entirely and lay down on the bed. Shorn of her petticoats, dress, and corsets, she appeared very slight. The red marks where the corset had bitten into her flesh were vivid against her pale skin.

‘Are all women so injured by their corsets?’ he asked, sitting next to her.

‘I am by no means a special case,’ she said. ‘It is of no great import.’

He shook his head. ‘My father says that women are the weaker sex, yet I do not know that I would have the strength to bear a child or crush myself into a corset.’

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.

James opened the jar of salve. ‘Do you wish me to… We have not yet even…’

Elizabeth gently took his hand and put it on her waist. ‘I know that you will be gentle.’

He took a deep breath and then another. Then he added salve to his palms, rubbing them together to warm the cool ointment.

‘You looked very comely today,’ he said, his voice tight as he carefully slid his hands over her back.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘I know that I am not the sort of pretty little thing that most appeals.’

James licked his lips. ‘Taste is a most personal thing,’ he said. ‘I have no preference for little or tall.’

Elizabeth laughed. She rolled onto her back. ‘Since I cannot change my height, I am glad to know it.’ She reached up to put her hand to James’s face. ‘Am I so unappealing?’ she teased.

He looked at her. ‘No. You are not.’

A soft flush touched her cheeks. ‘Oh. This scheme to seduce you is not going entirely as planned.’

James laughed softly. ‘Was that your scheme?’

‘Would you be terribly shocked?’

‘A little,’ he admitted. He touched her belly with her fingertips. ‘Would you be terribly shocked that I have not done this before?’

‘A little,’ Elizabeth said. She reached up to unbutton his shirt. ‘I thought all young men sewed their wild oats before marriage.’

James shook his head. ‘The wildest thing I did was drink too much whiskey.’

She paused for a moment. ‘Might I ask what you did after that?’

‘I fell asleep,’ he admitted, fingers fumbling to take off his shirt.

Elizabeth put her hands over his. ‘James, you are shaking.’

He closed his eyes for a moment as he took a deep breath. He opened his eyes when he heard the rustle of the bedclothes. Elizabeth had slid under the covers.

‘Perhaps you could lower the lights,’ she suggested, her voice a mixture of anxiety and resignation.

James hesitated for a moment but then nodded. ‘Yes. A moment.’ He stood up and finished undressing. Elizabeth was staring straight at the ceiling.

He lowered the lights and took a breath before walking back to the bed. As he pulled back the covers, Elizabeth took hold of his hand and squeezed it.

‘Are you ready?’ she asked.

‘How will I know?’

‘I… think you would know,’ she said carefully. She slid her hand up his arm and gently pulled him down to her.

Her lips were warm and soft.

‘Oh,’ he muttered.

Her hand slipped between his legs.

‘Ah,’ he murmured.


	3. Chapter 3

Two Years Later

James and Elizabeth were finishing breakfast when the architect arrived. James frowned as he checked his fob.

‘I told him nine,’ he said to the slave. ‘Have him wait.’

‘Does he have the plans?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘Did you decide on the carpeting for the main staircase? Or do you think to wait until the other decorations are chosen?’

James smiled at his wife. ‘I fear we have not progressed so far.’

‘Oh,’ she said, sitting back. ‘I have not before observed a hotel being furnished. It is quite invigorating.’

‘I am always beholden to your assistance with my tailor,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you could guide me in the decorations of the hotel.’

Elizabeth’s eyes were illuminated at once. ‘Are you teasing me, James?’

‘Not at all,’ James promised. ‘I am learning the management of money from my father and I have ordered books on the running of hotels. However, I am not sure that aesthetic sense can be learned. I would appreciate any assistance that you can give me.’

‘I do have some ideas,’ she said.

‘Are they in the notebook that you have been carrying around the cloth merchants and every sort of artist and candle maker?’ He smiled again. ‘Now I am teasing you.’

She laughed playfully. ‘I have not yet considered furniture.’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I do not envy you that. I understand that the family are very difficult to deal with.’

She nodded. ‘Monsters to a man.’

‘The sons in particular are said to be _intolerable_.’

Elizabeth took a bite of food and ate it carefully. ‘Will you be purchasing the furniture from the factory?’

He nodded. ‘Father says that the factory and the hotel must be kept entirely separate, with which I agree. Nonetheless, it makes sense on a number of levels to purchase from the factory.’

‘It may take some time before the hotel begins to make a profit?’

James nodded. ‘Likely so, yes.’ He shifted in his seat. ‘On a similar note, I think perhaps it is time that I look at the household accounts.’

Elizabeth clasped her hands together in her lap. ‘Oh. Is there a problem?’

James shook his head. ‘No, no. Merely that I am responsible for any debts accrued in the household.’

‘There are no debts,’ Elizabeth said.

James took a deep breath. ‘A small accounting every couple of years seems quite a minor amount of oversight, I think.’

‘As you like,’ she said.

***

William Junior regarded his hand of cards. ‘You are in a glum mood, James. It makes you quite dull company.’

James glanced across the room. Elizabeth was at another table, playing cards with Abigail.

‘I fear I have offended Elizabeth.’

William Junior raised his eyebrows. ‘You have not offended her before?’

James frowned and put down a card. ‘Not to my knowledge.’

‘I guarantee that you have,’ William Junior said.

‘What use do you imagine that comment to be?’

William Junior peered at his cards. ‘I imagine that you will now give more thought to how much you are offending your wife.’

James sat back. ‘Your expertise in this area is rather less than mine.’

William Junior looked at him. ‘I see. Tell me then, what have you done and what are going to do to set things to rights?’

James pursed his lips. ‘I told her that I wished to review the household accounts.’

William Junior tilted his head. ‘Why?’

‘I have not looked at them yet,’ James said. ‘Elizabeth manages the daily household accounts.’

‘Then let her do so.’

James’s featured took on a cast of irritation. ‘I have no intention of interfering, yet I must exercise _some_ oversight.’

William Junior sat back upon his chair. ‘Must you though? The lady has been doing so for many years yet you imagine yourself able to critique her numbers.’

James looked at his hands. ‘I am well aware of that. It is why I have left it this long. Yet it must be done, William. I am responsible for the household. It is my duty to ensure that it is done properly.’

William Junior put down a card. ‘Not all duties must be done.’

‘Yes, they must,’ James said. ‘That is why they are duties and not pleasures.’ 

William Junior drew his brows together as he looked at James. ‘Are you sure that it is _this_ duty that has offended her?’

‘Yes.’ James took a sip of his drink. ‘Why do you ask?’

William Junior nodded at Abigail. ‘It has been two years. I fear mother is beginning to think that she may never be a grandmother.’

James met his gaze with a stony glare before laying down his cards. ‘Then you should marry and produce some,’ he said, taking his winnings and standing up.

‘How did you do that?’ William Junior asked, looking at the cards.

James walked from the room, through the hallway, and out into the gardens. After the smoky heat of the drawing room, the garden was refreshingly cool.

‘James, is something wrong?’ Abigail asked.

He twisted around. ‘I was a little hot.’

‘Indeed,’ Abigail said. ‘The room is full of young ladies so tightly corseted that they can barely breathe, but you are the one who requires fresh air.’

‘I am a married man at a formal party, and you are the only one inquiring after my health, not the host, or even my wife,’ he retorted.

Abigail came and stood beside him. ‘You both seem to be in poor temper tonight,’ she said more gently. ‘Was Doctor March wrong?’

James snorted. ‘Doctor March does not know the difference between illness and childbearing.’ He shook his head. ‘That is nothing new.’

‘Disappointment does not require novelty,’ Abigail said.

James shook his head. ‘I do not think of it and Elizabeth does not speak of it. It is better to think to what we do have than what we do not.’

Abigail squeezed his hand. ‘Then why are you here and not inside?’

James pursed his lips. ‘William annoyed me.’

Abigail smiled. ‘That is surely nothing new either.’

‘Sadly no,’ James admitted. He regarded her more thoughtfully. ‘Forgive me, Ma’am, does something distress you?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Not distress.’

‘What then?’

She looked up at him. ‘I was talking to Catherine Muir. Her daughter Jane returns soon from school. She will be attending the cotillion.’

James wetted his lips. ‘Are you concerned that the cotillion will again descend into anarchy?’

‘Impudence is not merely the crime of children,’ she said playfully.

‘I would not have dared when I was a child,’ he said.

Abigail looked back at the house. ‘I remember that you had some regard for Miss Muir.’

James clenched his jaw. ‘I am a married man.’

Abigail looked down at her hands. ‘I did not always care for your father as I do now,’ she said. ‘I grew to love him in time.’

James did not reply.

‘There was a young man I loved,’ Abigail said. ‘In time my feelings for him faded as my feelings for your father grew. Yet until those feelings changed his presence at gatherings and the like was… disquieting.’

James shook his head. ‘I should return to the party.’

She put her hand on his arm. ‘I would spare you the distress.’

‘Ma’am, the time for this discussion was before my marriage,’ James said more gently. ‘We have all made our choices. We must live with them.’

***

Malachi brought James a glass of port and a small platter of fruit and cheese.

‘The night is drawing in, Master,’ he said.

‘I promised the mistress that I would return the accounts to her in the morning,’ James said, not looking away from the books.

‘She has already retired for the night,’ Malachi said.

James glanced at Malachi. ‘I am aware of that. What is your point?’

‘Nothing I have not already said, Master.’

James sat back and rubbed his eyes. ‘These accounts do not tally.’

Malachi frowned and leaned forward to look at the pages. ‘How are you able to tell?’

‘Her writing is most… ladylike,’ he said carefully. ‘That is not the issue. Nor is it that money has simply been taken. There are a number of times when regular payments, for food, for wine, and the like are suddenly inflated somewhat with the corresponding bills of sale missing. There will be several such events in a month and then nothing for many months.’

Malachi clasped his hands together. ‘It is a mystery, Master. Shall I take the books away?’

James looked at him. ‘No. Do you know something about these accounts?’

‘Master, I cannot read, and I have no knowledge of figures,’ Malachi said with a quickness.

James sighed. ‘That is not the same as “no,” Malachi.’

The slave was quite a moment. ‘Master, I have heard slave gossip but that is not the same as _knowing_.’

James closed the books. ‘Does the gossip say that the Mistress knows that there is an issue with the accounts?’

Hesitation touched Malachi’s features before he nodded. ‘Yes, Master.’

James sat back. ‘I see. Very well. Take these away.’

As Malachi took away the books, James ate a little and drank his port before going upstairs. The higher he went the quieter it became. It would be hours before the slaves finished for the night but in his bedroom, he was unable to hear their work.

He was in little mood for sleep. In truth, it was not entirely the household accounts that occupied his thoughts. When he taken the carriage to the factory that morning, he had passed the Muir house. He had seen Jane Muir’s trunks being taken from her carriage and carried into the house. He had not seen the lady herself and was still unsure if was relieved or disappointed.

He had hoped that when she returned to school, he would think no more of her. Certainly, after his marriage he had a great many things with which to occupy his time. It was true that he had thought about her less than when she was town. Yet, he had thought of her. He would have given much to not do so. There were times when Elizabeth would have been crushed to know that he was thinking of another woman.

Perhaps her absence had given free rein to his imagination and her presence would prove the necessary tonic. It was an article of common faith that any image of fantasy was always more potent than the reality.

He prayed it would be so with Jane Muir.

Elizabeth was suffering a bad dream. James removed his tie as he sat on the side of the bed.

‘Elizabeth,’ he whispered, shaking her shoulder. ‘Wake up.’

It took her a moment to awaken. She stared at him wide-eyed.

‘You were having a nightmare,’ James said, beginning to unbutton his shirt. ‘Try to return to sleep.’

‘Did you finish with the accounts?’ she asked, her voice weighed down by slumber.

‘I did.’ He put his clothes away to be laundered.

Elizabeth sat up. ‘Did you find everything you needed?’

James sighed as he turned around. ‘I did not.’

She folded her arms across her chest. ‘I am sorry to hear that.’

‘Shall we discuss it in the morning?’

She shook her head. ‘I will not be able to sleep soundly until we have discussed it.’

James ruffled his hair and then climbed into the bed. ‘I do not know why that you would not simply tell me that you needed money.’

‘I did not want you to know,’ she said.

James rubbed his face. ‘Then there is nothing to discuss.’

‘It will not happen again,’ she said quietly.

James shook his head. ‘Elizabeth, I have known men who gambled or drank. I have heard them say that they will stop over and over.’

Elizabeth gasped. ‘I have in no incurred any form of debts and I certainly do not drink to excess!’

‘Elizabeth, there is money missing from the accounts,’ he said tiredly. ‘Attempts have been made to hide it and you refuse to explain events. What do you expect me to think if not that you have been losing money either through gaming or self-indulgence?’

She pursed her lips and looked up at the ceiling. ‘It is neither.’

‘What is it then?’ James asked.

She looked at her hands. ‘Abraham, Ruth, John, Catherine, and Jacob.’

James shook his head. ‘I do not understand.’

‘Henry had carnal relations with the maids, with the cook, and with every slave his fancy took,’ she said quietly. ‘There were children. He sold them as soon as they were weaned.’

‘You bought them?’ James asked. ‘Why?’

Elizabeth looked at him. ‘Cats will cry for their kittens. Dogs will whimper for their whelps. I _heard_ slaves barely past childhood sobbing for their babies. Not for days. Not for weeks. For months. Longer. So, when Henry died, I bought them back. Not all at once. They were not all available at once. Catherine had been sold to the Muirs. It was easier to gift Ruth to Jane as a birthday gift then purchase Sarah again.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘Say what you will. I will not apologise.’

James released his breath. ‘Why did you not say what you wished to do?’

Elizabeth made a moue. ‘Why did I not tell you that my husband made free with every female slave he could lay hands on? Really, James. I do have some pride.’

He lay back upon the pillows. ‘Is it not distressing to have them in the house?’

She clasped her hands together. ‘It was not a love match between us, but it was… humiliating.’

‘He should not have done that to you,’ James said quietly.

She managed a smile. ‘I find I enjoy seeing the children at the odd moments they escape from their quarters.’

James put his hand over hers.

‘Am I forgiven?’ she asked.

‘When I told that ladies had their secrets, this is not what I imagined,’ he said wryly.

She kissed his cheek. ‘It shall not happen again.’

‘Thank you.’

***

The cotillion was the social event of the season. James found them dull as he had little interest in dresses and was allowed to express even less interest in young ladies. However, his sisters were wildly excited, and both had new dresses to exhibit to anyone who would pay them attention.

‘You seem sad,’ Elizabeth said, putting her hand on his arm.

James drew himself up. ‘Merely thoughtful.’

‘About your sisters?’

James chose his words with care. ‘They are growing quickly. In a few years, Mary may become an object of interest to young men.’

‘Young men are something to avoid, it is true,’ Elizabeth said.

James ignored this levity. ‘I hope that my parents allow her to make her own free choice. Wives are so vulnerable to their husbands if the wrong choice is made.’

Elizabeth sighed. ‘That is always true, whomever makes the choice.’ Her grip tightened a little on his arm as the Muirs entered the room.

James looked across to the door. Jane had blossomed while she was away. Her face had lost much of the childishness to reveal soft, sweet features. Her bright, interested gaze swept across the room to James, and she smiled.

***

‘When will you put a babe in this poor woman?’ Mr Muir asked James.

Elizabeth’s pale skin flushed russet.

‘Edward!’ Mrs Muir hissed.

‘It’s been what, two years now?’ Mr Muir asked.

‘Inappropriate, Muir,’ Willian Senior said.

‘The poor girl cannot help it if she is barren,’ Mrs Muir said.

Abigail drew her brows together. ‘Two years is little time to –’

‘Pardon us,’ James said stiffly, taking Elizabeth’s arm. She made no demur as he drew her away.

A slave brought them drinks as they secreted themselves in an alcove. Elizabeth was still flushed and was now shaking as she cradled the glass in her hands.

‘Shall we go?’ James asked.

‘It is far too early in the evening,’ she said. ‘We would give offense.’

‘We have _taken_ offense,’ James said.

Elizabeth sipped her drink. ‘They merely said what many people are thinking.’

‘That is what children do. They have no excuse for such discourtesy,’ James insisted.

They moved apart as someone cleared their throat.

Jane Muir was wearing her hair down in long glossy curls that lapped at her shoulders. James thought it was a style more common in the North but whatever the origin he believed that it was very becoming to her.

‘I hope that you are not leaving,’ she said politely.

‘Mrs Green is feeling unwell,’ James said brusquely.

‘I am sorry to hear that,’ Jane said. ‘My father has been known to have that effect on people.’

Elizabeth attempted to suppress her amusement. ‘How was your journey, Miss Muir?’

Jane smiled brightly. ‘So exciting. I love to travel. Have you travelled much, Mrs Green?’

‘Not of late,’ Elizabeth said. ‘James keeps me quite occupied. He is building a hotel and has asked me to take charge of the furnishing.’

Jane’s expression faltered for a moment. ‘My goodness. That must be a significant undertaking. It seems all too rare for a man to involve his wife in his business to such a degree.’

‘Elizabeth helped her first husband with his business ventures,’ James said. ‘I am fortunate to have the benefit of her many years of experience.’

He noticed Elizabeth flinch and turned towards her.

‘A slight headache,’ she said. ‘Nothing more.’

‘I will have the carriage brought around,’ James said.

‘No need,’ she protested. ‘James, you are about town every day. This is the first company I have had in weeks. A little pain is nothing.’

‘You should visit us,’ Jane suggested. ‘Or I you. I promise I will not ask anything about bearing children.’

James snorted. ‘Miss Muir dislikes children,’ he said to Elizabeth.

Jane gasped. ‘That is a dreadful slander!’ she said while laughing. ‘I said that had little interest in them, in part because I am not long past being considered a child.’

Elizabeth gave her a small smile. ‘James has told me several times of his desire to have a whole parcel of children.’

James flushed. ‘I –’

‘Oh,’ Jane said, at the same time. She took a breath and released it. ‘Again, I am all contrition for the pain that my parents caused.’

Elizabeth touched her hand. ‘No apologies are necessary from you, Miss Muir. You have been entirely delightful, and I would very much enjoy it if you visited. I will at home tomorrow from two if that would be amenable for you.’

Jane nodded. ‘I would very much like that, Mrs Green. I thank you for your graciousness.’

They watched her make her way back to the main party.

‘I had not realised how much you lacked for company,’ James said quietly. ‘Perhaps we could dine with my family. Perhaps not if the conversation is going to turn to children.’

‘I fear it will,’ Elizabeth admitted. ‘Once talk of a woman being barren arises it rarely abates.’

James put his arm about her shoulders. ‘You will hear none from me.’

‘Thank you,’ she said softly.

***

James and William Senior were reviewing plans for dining chairs when William Junior finally arrived at the factory. He slipped into the office without fanfare or comment as if he hoped that his absence had been entirely unnoticed.

‘What in tarnation happened to your face?’ William Senior demanded.

‘I fell from my horse,’ William Junior claimed.

‘Upon your face?’ James asked.

William Senior narrowed his eyes. ‘I will not have a son of mine fist fighting like a common ruffian.’

‘No, Father,’ William Junior agreed.

‘It is long past time you were married,’ William Senior said. ‘A wife would calm down your passions.’

‘I am not sure that would be successful,’ James said.

William Junior’s expression was all innocence. ‘Alas, Father, there are no young ladies who attract my interest.’

‘What of the young ladies at the cotillion?’

James leaned against the draughting table. ‘Father, Miss Monahan and Miss Hamilton are already engaged. Miss Brown, Miss Clark, and Miss Entwistle are all courting.’

William Junior essayed a sweet smile that James knew of old to fear. ‘Then all that remains is Miss Muir.’

‘Absolutely not!’ James insisted.

William Senior pursed his lips. ‘What?’

William Junior cleared his throat. ‘Miss Muir is a good friend to Elizabeth. Doubtless that James merely wishes a better husband for her than his good-for-nothing brother.’

‘Is that the issue?’ William Senior demanded.

‘Yes,’ James said through a clenched jaw. ‘I do not believe that William will be a good husband.’

‘I say,’ William Junior muttered.

William Senior sighed. ‘A good woman will set him straight.’

‘I believe you are asking too much of any woman,’ James said.

‘I have not left the room,’ William Junior protested.

William Senior gathered up his coat. ‘If you wish to be considered as a potential husband then first behave as a man.’ He strode to the door. ‘I will return from the clothmakers in an hour. James, ensure that the line changes are made.’

‘They have already begun,’ James said. ‘However, I will monitor the progress.’

William Senior slammed shut the door behind him. James narrowed his eyes at his older brother.

‘Do not even consider, Miss Muir,’ he said.

‘She would be an excellent choice,’ William Junior said. ‘For both you and I.’

James crossed his arms. ‘It is nothing to me which poor woman you choose to marry.’

William Junior chuckled with little humour. ‘James, do you truly imagine that I am blind to your continuing regard for Miss Muir? Or to her open preference for you? Why do you imagine that she alone of her contemporaries is not already being courted? The lady will countenance no suitor that is not you.’

James felt himself redden. ‘I am a _married_ man.’

‘Indeed,’ William Junior said. ‘And if young Jane were my wife then you might be thrown into her company constantly without the slightest comment. I could seek my comforts as I choose, and you could fill her bed in my stead.’

‘ _What_? What are you saying?’ James demanded. ‘Did you hit your head?’

William Junior put his hand on the table. ‘You love Jane…’

‘I am married to Elizabeth! Where do you imagine she is in this monstrous scheme?’

William Junior shook his head. ‘She had no business becoming your wife. If she had been truthful with you then you would have never married her.’

James rubbed his forehead. ‘Brother or not, I will not listen to you defaming my wife.’

‘You would have not married her if you knew she was barren.’

‘It has been _two_ years,’ James growled. ‘That is not uncommon. Even if she is, she could not have known.’

‘Two years with you,’ William Junior said. ‘How many years with Henry River, ten? More?’

James looked away. ‘He was old. He spent much of his time lost in drink.’

William Junior threw up his hands. ‘He sired at least four bastards that are known and who knows how many who are not! That they had no children was not caused by any infirmity of his.’

James found he could not look at his brother. ‘Who told you that?’

‘The information was not difficult to find,’ William Senior said. ‘When you told me that money was missing from the accounts, I made simple inquiries to find out on what she might be spending the money.’ He put his hand upon James’s shoulder. ‘She had to know that she was barren, James.’

James pushed his hand away. ‘One sin does not excuse another,’ he said. ‘Do not suggest this again.’

***

The sky was ill-tempered as James walked home. If asked he would concede it was a foolish thing to do, dressed as he was for the factory and not the country. His shoes and the hems of his trousers were picking up splashes of mud and flicks of manure. He would catch hell from Malachi about it.

He wondered if Malachi knew that Elizabeth had known she was barren before they were married. It would not have surprised James if he had, the slave often took a darker view of human nature than James did. Would the slave have said something? Perhaps it was not his place. Someone should have told him.

James was vaguely aware of rustling in the hedges. He ignored it. Whether it was a wild dog hunting a rabbit or a fleeing slave, he cared little.

They had not talked about Elizabeth being barren. They had talked about the shape of it. About her distress and his disappointment each month when her time came. She had never said that it would always be so. He had never hidden his desire for children. She had known since before they married. She had known and she had allowed him to continue with his hope of fatherhood. It was a hope that he had cherished since he was young. A hope that had sustained through the marriage he had not chosen to a woman he barely knew.

The house was brightly lit and filled with music. He was late for dinner with several neighbours. The thought of making pleasant with anyone was too bitter for him. Instead he began up the stairs.

‘James?’ Elizabeth asked. She came to the foot of the stairs. ‘You are so late. I was… Are you quite well?’

‘I am not well,’ he said. ‘Excuse me, Madam.’

‘Madam?’ She wetted her lips. ‘I know of nothing I have done that would upset you so much. Would you not tell me so that we may resolve this misperception?’

James set his jaw. ‘I do not believe there is any misperception.’

‘James, _please_.’

He heard the noise of the dinner dip. He lowered his voice.

‘Why do you imagine that you had no children with Henry?’

He hoped that there would confusion in her expression. He wished ardently to be wrong. That William Junior had been wrong. Better a foolish wife than a deceitful one.

Alas, she did not appear confused. Instead her colour fled and her expression became guilty and hunted.

‘James, I…’

‘He sired children with other women,’ he said. ‘Why not with you?’

Elizabeth began to cry. ‘I did not… I am sorry… I hoped…’

The door was thrown open and Abigail ran out with William Senior and Jane Muir behind her. In the room beyond William Junior was stood by the table.

‘What nonsense is this?’ Abigail demanded.

‘Return to your dinner, Ma’am,’ James said. ‘Continuing plotting to trap another of your sons in a loveless marriage.’

Jane Muir gasped, threw her shawl about Elizabeth, and gently led her away to another room.

‘How dare you,’ William Senior hissed. ‘What has got into you?’

‘Ask William,’ James said, turning on his heel to march upstairs. ‘He will tell all quite gleefully I have no doubt.’

***

James was changing when there came a knock upon the door. He looked at Malachi who crossed to it.

‘If it is the mistress or my father, I will need a glass of whiskey,’ James said.

‘It is not the mistress or your father,’ Malachi said, opening the door. ‘I will still fetch that whiskey, Sir.’

James turned to the door as Malachi slipped out. ‘Oh,’ he said, as Jane Muir entered the room. He stood quickly. ‘I fear that you are not seeing me at my best, Miss Muir.’

‘You appear to be better than you were earlier,’ she said.

James clasped his hands together. ‘You ought not to be in my bedroom, Miss Muir,’ he said quietly.

‘The door is open,’ she said. ‘And your slave will return shortly.’

‘True,’ he agreed. ‘Nonetheless, I would not wish your reputation to be damaged.’

Jane snorted. ‘My reputation may dance down the street in it’s undergarments for all I care.’

James sat down. ‘Why are you here, Jane?’

She was quiet for a moment. ‘You were obviously in distress. I was concerned.’

He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘No doubt my family would argue that I was the one causing distress.’

‘Your brother did no little labour against that point,’ she said, walking across the room. ‘I fear that there is no shortage of unhappiness and injured feelings.’

‘I am sorry that you have found yourself in the midst of this,’ he said. ‘It was abominably rude of me. I am very sorry for the embarrassment I must have caused you.’

She sat beside him on the bed. ‘I am not embarrassed,’ she said. ‘In truth, I think it well that I was here. Once your parents understood the cause of the complaint, I fear they had little sympathy for her.’

James sighed. ‘I did not wish that to happen. She insisted on our speaking on the stairs.’

‘A mistake she is unlikely to make again,’ Jane said.

‘Where is she now?’

Jane smoothed out her skirts. ‘She took a draught and is sleeping upon a couch in the library. Your family have taken their leave.’

James looked at his hands. ‘You must think us monstrous.’

‘No.’ She touched his hand. ‘I think Elizabeth terrified, you hurt, and your family horrified.’ She smiled slightly when he looked at her. ‘I promise you that I will say no word of this to anyone.’

‘I never thought for a moment that you would,’ he protested.

She nodded. ‘Nonetheless, I am sure it is a relief to hear it.’

James sighed. ‘You are the last person I would wish to have witnessed any of this.’

She stroked her fingertips across the back of his hand. ‘If I had not, then we would not be having this conversation. We have little enough opportunity to speak of anything but the most common pleasantries.’

James covered her hands with his. ‘We should not be speaking of anything but common pleasantries,’ he said gently. ‘I am a married man. That has not changed. You should not be in here. This is wrong.’

She stood abruptly and backed away. ‘Sir, I have no idea what point you are making.’

‘Then I apologise, Miss Muir,’ he said, standing up. ‘If you will extend your patience a few moments longer, I will have the carriage take you home.’

Malachi entered the room with James’s whiskey. He coughed slightly, fracturing the tension.

‘Your drink, Sir,’ he said. ‘Shall I have a guest room prepared for Miss Muir?’

Jane snatched up the glass. ‘I am going home.’ She attempted to drain the glass. The second mouthful caught in her throat. She choked for a moment and then forced it down.

‘Have the carriage prepared,’ James said. ‘Then prepare another room. The mistress is asleep downstairs. I will bring her up here to continue sleeping before I escort Miss Muir home.’

‘Yes, Sir,’ Malachi said.

‘I do not need you to escort me home,’ Jane insisted, leaning against the dresser for balance.

‘Miss Muir, given the amount of whiskey you just drank it would be discourteous in the extreme, and perhaps dangerous, not to escort you,’ James said curtly.

James sent Jane out to the carriage and took a deep breath before he entered the library. There were low lights burning, enough the sketch the shape of the bookcases, and of the couch at the end. As he walked towards it, Elizabeth stirred and sat up.

‘Come on,’ James said.

Her face showed the signs of the draught she had taken. Her expression was slack and her eyes were softly unfocussed.

‘James?’ She looked about the room. ‘Did I fall asleep?’

‘You were in distress and took a draught,’ he said.

He saw the memory creep upon her and the realisation seep into her mind.

‘I am so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I only –’

‘This is not the time,’ he interjected. ‘I must escort Miss Muir home.’

Elizabeth stood up, leaning on his brusquely offered arm. ‘Could she not stay the night?’

‘She declined the offer,’ James said. ‘For the best I think.’ 

Elizabeth looked into his face. ‘Doubtless there would be all manner of rumours if she were to stay.’

‘Rumours, Madam?’ he asked stiffly.

Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment. ‘It is no secret that Miss Muir was your first preference.’ Her subsequent smile was marked with sadness. ‘She is a sweet girl. I was prepared for her to be lively and quick-witted. I was not prepared for her to be kind.’

James looked away. ‘Malachi is having a room prepared for me. I think it best if we spend some time apart.’

Elizabeth bit her lower lip as tears began to gather in her eyes. ‘I cannot blame you for that.’

‘Please do not…’ James fished out his handkerchief. ‘I do not know how we can resolve this but resolve it we must.’

She gazed at him as he dried her face. ‘I am in no position to ask you for anything,’ she said. ‘Yet, I would be grateful if you and Miss Muir were… discreet.’

James shook his head. ‘Discreet in what manner?’ 

‘You know in what manner,’ she said softly.

‘My behaviour with Miss Muir has been beyond reproach,’ he said, but guilt hung over his words.

Elizabeth looked down at her feet for a moment. ‘I am not questioning you, James. That is not my place and it is not my right.’

James sighed. ‘It is very late. You must be tired. I will walk you up to the bedroom.’

Her fingers knotted together. ‘As you wish.’

***

Jane was drowsing when James got into the carriage. Although she was leaning against the window her body was curiously straight. It was, he suspected, the narrow and painful confines of the corset. It was that and that alone which propelled him to sit her upright. He was alarmed to imagine the pain that it would cause when she awoke.

The night had drawn in and yet James could see lights beyond. Over the rattling of the wheels of the carriage, he heard approaching shouts. The carriage sped up, shaking as it took a corner, creaking and shuddering as the shouting grew louder.

‘I am indisposed,’ Jane moaned. ‘Stop the carriage.’

James pulled by the drape blocking the window. ‘I do not know if we can –’

The wheels hit a pothole.

The horses screamed.

The carriage overturned. 

***

James screamed as the surgeon set his leg. He had no idea what time it was. What day it was. Where he was. He only knew that he was in pain.

He slept. He woke in pain. He slept. He woke in pain.

He was given a tincture. His breathing slowed. The pain eased.

He was somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. They were differentiated by the light and darkness. By the slaves who brought this or changed that. Each waking period was a little longer and he was a little more cognisant.

The light through the window was the tired, worn illumination of the mid-afternoon. James regarded the tobacco strained ceiling for a few moments before marshalling his strength and sitting up.

He had not the first nor the smallest inkling where he was. A bedroom, certainly, but not the room he shared with Elizabeth. He did not think it was any bedroom in their home as the view through the window showed entirely the wrong sort of trees, and those far too close.

James hissed at the shock of pain in his left leg. He threw the covers aside. His left leg below the knee was strapped with wooden splints and cotton bandages. James had previously had little use for doctors. They were the last resort of the truly desperate.

There was a bell on the table beside the bed. James regarded it warily. There was something in his nature which rebelled at the concept of ringing a bell for attention. His father held that it was unmanly. An affectation. James had not previously given the matter much consideration. At home, Malachi or another slave would be in the room. Being entirely alone in a room was perhaps more peculiar a sensation than awakening in another’s bed.

James reached for the pitcher of water. As he twisted towards it, a spasm of pain radiated through his leg. He stifled his cry of pain but in doing so lost his grip on the pitcher, which slipped from his fingers.

It did not break but landed with a loud and heavy thud. Water spilled out across the floor. James lay on his back, panting with pain as he attempted to gather enough energy to reach for the bell.

He was faintly aware of running feet. There was a brief, peremptory knock yet barely any pause before the door was thrown open.

‘I spilled the water,’ James muttered, as slaves cleared up the mess.

‘You are awake! You should have rung the bell!’ Jane Muir’s skirts whirled as she ran around to the other side of the bed. ‘Belinda! Belinda! Tell mother! Fetch the doctor!’

James pulled back as she reached towards him. ‘Miss Muir, you should not see me in such a condition.’

‘I hardly think that we need to stand on such ceremony,’ she said. ‘This is my parents’ house.’

The colour fled from his face. ‘I must return home at once. My wife will be distraught.’

‘I will send a message for her,’ Jane said. ‘When Belinda returns then she can see to it.’ She poured him some water and held it out to him.

‘Miss Muir, either you must leave the room, or I must,’ James muttered. ‘If you care nothing for your own reputation please consider the pain done to Elizabeth if you injure mine.’

Jane, well prepared to argue her disinterest in her own reputation, stumbled over her response. ‘I… I have no wish to cause her additional pain.’

‘Nor I,’ James said.

‘Jane, what are you doing?’ Mrs Muir hurried into the room.

‘Mother, merely…’ Jane’s protests were extinguished as her mother pulled her from the room.

A few moments later, Belinda returned to the room.

‘Sir, the doctor is on his way and a boy has been sent to your home,’ she said.

‘What happened?’ James asked. ‘How do I come to be here?’

‘The carriage turned over, Sir,’ she said. ‘Miss Jane was hurt a little, but your leg was broken in the tumult.’

James looked down at the splint. ‘Did the doctor think I would not pay for amputation?’

He noticed Belinda give a sly smile of amusement that she quickly hid.

‘Doctor O’Brian said there was enough time not to amputate,’ she said.

‘I am fortunate enough not to be a soldier,’ James said.

‘Yes, Sir,’ Belinda agreed.

James winced as he sat straighter. ‘How long have I been here? What time is it?’

‘A little before three p.m., Sir,’ she said. ‘The surgeon came very quickly, and it was not safe to send you to the hospital in Washington.’

‘My wife has been told?’ James checked. ‘She must be concerned.’

Belinda nodded. ‘We sent a boy this morning, Sir. Mrs Green came to visit this morning, but you were asleep. She stayed as long as she could but returned home to fetch clothes and make arrangements for you staying.’

James shook his head. ‘That will not be necessary. I will be returning home today.’

‘Sir, the doctor –’

James narrowed his eyes. ‘This is not a subject for discussion,’ he said. ‘I would prefer to bathe before I leave, however if necessary, I will crawl out on my hands and knees stinking of blood and sweat.’

He would have preferred to have Belinda express alarm or dismay at this pronouncement. Instead she raised an eyebrow.

‘As you say, Sir,’ she said. ‘I will speak to the mistress.’

James licked his lips. ‘Please thank Mr and Mrs Muir for their hospitality.’

Belinda nodded. ‘Yes, Sir.’ She crossed to the door and opened it. ‘If you had not been in the carriage with Miss Jane… The surgeon said she might have been much more badly injured.’

James licked his lips. ‘That was pure happenstance.’

‘Even so, Sir,’ Belinda said. She gave a curtsey as she left the room.

James closed his eyes as he leaned his head back against the pillows. He struggled to conceive of any way in which the situation could possibly have been worse. He had to return home as soon as possible. Both Elizabeth and William Junior had referred to rumours about himself and Jane Muir. This would pour oil on the sparks of rumour. James was not partial to romances however he had heard enough of them from his mother and sisters to know that this was the stuff of them. The injured man nursed by the headstrong heroine screamed of romantic fantasies. Dangerous fantasies that would be taken as proof of misdeeds.

Dangerous fantasises that, in truth, he was more worried about preying on his own mind more than Jane’s. She was younger than he was and unmarried. It was his duty to draw the line. His duty to be the faithful husband and loving son.

The door was opened again, and the less pleasing but more welcome form of Henry Muir bustled inside the room.

‘This is a fine situation, Green!’

‘I apologise for presuming upon your hospitality, Sir,’ James said. ‘Was my carriage much damaged?’

‘A broken axle and damage to the cab,’ Henry Muir said. ‘Your man took it to be repaired but it will be a week at least. It is in better condition than you are.’

James gritted his teeth at a spasm of pain in his leg. ‘I would not presume upon you more than I have. If I might borrow your carriage, I will return home today.’

‘The sawbones will not like it,’ Henry said. ‘We have sent the carriage for your wife. Why not see why she says? It is a foolish man who does not listen to his wife when he is ill or injured.’

‘I am quite sure that she would prefer me recuperating at home,’ James said with complete honesty.

‘As you like,’ Henry said. ‘Some water is being heated so you may bathe and dress before you leave.’

‘I am all gratitude, Sir.’

Henry shook his great head. ‘Nonsense, if you had not been in the carriage to bear the brunt who can tell how badly hurt Jane would have been? We may only be blessed with a daughter now, Mr Green, but we love her dearly. I know it is not the fashion but the man who marries her will have to prove he deserves her before we will let her go.’

James was quiet for a moment. ‘It may not be the fashion, Mr Muir, yet I wish that more families insisted on the same for their children.’

Henry cleared his throat. ‘Well, I shall leave you to your toilet. If you have need of a carriage while yours is being repaired, then ours will be at your disposal.’

James regarded his injured leg as slaves brought in a hip bath. His leg appeared to have been set straight, which was a relief. His father’s wrist had been set badly after it had been caught in machinery at the factory. There was an unsightly lump on the side of his wrist where the bones had fused improperly, and it ached painfully in bad weather. James hoped to avoid that. The last thing that he wanted was a permanent reminder of Miss Muir.

Malachi came in with a clean set of clothes and James’s second-best pair of boots.

‘Where have you been?’ James asked.

‘Running between here and home, Master,’ Malachi said. ‘Which is near three miles. Then taking the carriage to the coachmaker.’

‘Did you see the mistress?’ James asked. ‘She does not think that I am here by my choice, does she?’

‘The carriage overturned, Master,’ Malachi said. ‘At first the report was that you were dead. Then that your back was broken.’

James groaned softly. ‘Has Elizabeth been told that neither is true?’

‘I told her myself, Master,’ Malachi said. ‘She was much relieved.’

James pushed his fingers through his hair. ‘Help me undress. I need to bathe before I return home.’

‘The doctor said you were to remain in bed for some weeks, Master,’ Malachi said. ‘Though you doubtless know best.’

‘There are times when the more courteous your speech the less I believe you mean it,’ James said tartly.

‘The mistress has her own slaves,’ Malachi said. ‘If you die, Master, I might end up in a far worse situation.’

James swore under his breath as he swung around on the bed. ‘Your concern is gratifying,’ he said.

Malachi knelt down to unbutton James’s shirt. ‘Miss Muir was very concerned.’

‘Miss Muir is why I need to leave as soon as possible,’ James muttered. ‘She entered the room before. She seemed unimpeded by injury.’

‘I have heard that in such events those sleeping are often less injured than those awake,’ Malachi said.

‘That does not seem just,’ James grumbled.

‘I leave it to my betters to argue what is just,’ Malachi said. There was a note in his voice which James chose not to interrogate.

‘What caused the carriage to overturn?’ James asked.

Malachi shuddered. ‘Soldiers chased an escaped slave into the road, Master. The carriage swerved to avoid them.’

James shifted his body to allow Malachi to finish undressing him. ‘There are a great many it seems of late.’

Malachi made a non-committal sound.

Malachi helped James into the hip bath, propping his ankle up on the lip. ‘I will have the slaves bring up hot water.’

James nodded. ‘Ensure you close the door.’

He wondered how much the carriage would cost to be repaired. It was no item of luxury but a necessity for any travel longer than a man might comfortably walk in poor weather. It was even more vital for Elizabeth, who could not reasonably walk outside without risking the entire destruction of her boots and dresses. James had, for a tiny moment, a spiteful spike of satisfaction at the thought that she would be unable to visit friends until the carriage was mended.

He cast the thought aside immediately. It was cruel and unworthy of him. He was no less angry than he had been however the heat of it had cooled enough for him to attempt some rational consideration of it. They had married for money, nothing else. She had not reneged on that. She had not lied about that. If he had found out on their wedding night that she was barrenthen he would have been angry, but he would not have been hurt. His sense of betrayal lay, at least in part, in the affection that had developed between them since they had married.

James was not in love with Elizabeth. He did not realistically foresee ever being in love with her. However, he did love her. He held in much affection and warmth. He believed that she returned his sentiments.

He was angry and he was hurt. However, he was a man, not a boy. He did not have the luxury of petulance or sulking. The situation was what it was. He had to resolve himself to forgive her and to make peace with the loss of a cherished wish. That was all that could be done. Therefore, he would do it. Somehow.

***

James closed his eyes. The warm water was soothing, despite the continual pain in his leg. He wished that he could lower his leg into the water but that could have been disastrous.

‘Might you move yourself a little lower, Master?’ Malachi asked.

‘I fear I will overturn the bath if I do,’ James said.

‘Then I will fetch more water,’ the other man said. ‘It might take a few minutes.’

James snorted. ‘I give you my word I will not run off.’

He heard Malachi chuckle.

‘If you intend to hop off, Master, please tell me. It would be a sight worth the seeing.’

James opened one eye. ‘I have not had as much morphine as you imagine.’

Malachi grinned. ‘I shall fetch the water.’

‘You should,’ James said, flicking water at him. He closed his eyes again and let his mind drift as he waited for Malachi to return.

He heard the bedroom door open and close.

‘You were commendably quick,’ James said. ‘I thought it would take you longer to warm the water and bring it up.’

He heard a rustle of clothing. Not the soft sound of cotton or burlap but of crinoline.

James snapped his eyes open. Jane, bright-eyed and pink-cheeked, pressed her finger to her lips. 

‘What are you doing?’ he hissed, thrusting his hands into the water to cover himself.

‘I wanted to see if you were quite well,’ she whispered. ‘Shush, if anyone hears you, my reputation will be in _tatters_!’

James narrowed his eyes. ‘That is your choice! What of my reputation?’

He did not hear the bathroom door open although he shivered subconsciously at the slight draught.

Jane sat on the side of the bath. ‘If neither of us tell then none will be the wiser.’ She trailed her fingers in the water. ‘We are not even touching.’

‘Under the circumstances, that is scarcely the point,’ James said. ‘Miss Muir, I am entirely undressed, and you are entirely unshocked.’

Her smile was playful. ‘Ought I to be shocked?’

James shifted his position slightly. ‘Yes, you should be horrified.’

Jane tilted her head. ‘I have never seen a man undressed before,’ she said. ‘Are you _horrific_ , James? I think that you look very handsome.’

‘I think –’ he began, as she leaned down towards him.

There was a gasp behind them, and then the door was slammed shut.

‘Elizabeth!’ James called.

Jane ran to the door. ‘It might have been a slave.’

‘You think after two years of marriage I do not intimately know every possible sound that she might make?’ James demanded.

Jane paled. ‘I will catch her and explain.’

James slammed his fist against the bath. Helpless to go after either woman. 

***

The house was in an uproar. James was in an agony of impatience. Every necessary step from dressing to moving downstairs to waiting for the carriage to return felt as though the time was being stretched and strained far beyond any human endurance.

‘Mr Muir says he will send Miss Muir to a convent,’ Malachi said, shaking his head. 

James was looking out of the window. ‘I cannot see her agreeing to that.’

‘She does not have her majority yet,’ Malachi said.

James awkwardly turned away from the window. ‘I do not wish to discuss Miss Muir.’

He had not seen Jane. As he waited in mounting agitation, he heard distant weeping. He could not begin to imagine what he would say to Elizabeth and yet the need to see her was sharp and pressing. That he had come so close to betrayal was appalling. That she had seen it was mortifying.

Malachi clutched his hat in his hand. ‘The carriage is here, Master.’

‘What did the driver say?’ James asked. Flashes of white speared his vision as he used one of Henry Muir’s canes to inch across to the door.

‘Master?’

James gritted his teeth. ‘Do I appear as if I have the patience for your pretence that you did not ask the driver Elizabeth’s manner in the carriage?’

Malachi bit his cheek. ‘She was in considerable distress, Master.’

James shook his head. ‘Naturally she was. I have humiliated her.’

Malachi helped him outside. He wondered if this was a presage of the future. Perhaps he deserved no better.

James climbed into the carriage with considerable difficulty. He heard his own breath gasping and his blood pounding in his ears. He collapsed back against the seat as the carriage left the house. He clutched the seat and screwed shut his eyes. Every rut and pothole jolted his leg, sending agonising waves through him.

As the carriage came to a holt outside the house, violet washed across James’s vision and he sank into a deep oblivion.

***

James felt innately that smelling salts were entirely unnecessary. He had not fainted from some shock, nor was he a woman in a delicate condition. If he had lost consciousness, it seemed to James that his body needed to be unconscious and that they ought to allow it to do so.

‘What on earth possessed you?’ Abigail demanded. ‘The doctor was appalled.’

‘I needed to be at home,’ James said. ‘Where is Elizabeth?’

Abigail sighed. ‘She is in the library.’

‘I need to speak to her.’

Abigail sat beside him on the bed. ‘James, you need rest and Elizabeth needs more kindness and forgiveness than you are well enough to give her.’

James shook his head. ‘Mother, you misunderstand,’ he said softly. ‘I have terribly offended and wounded her and I must tell her how much I regret it.’

Abigail was quiet for a moment. ‘Your anger at the dinner party –’

‘I might have betrayed our marital bed,’ James said. ‘Elizabeth interrupted before we kissed. Nonetheless it was in my heart.’

Abigail closed her eyes. ‘Oh, James.’

‘For Elizabeth’s sake, Ma’am, I ask that you not share this,’ James asked quietly. ‘Her first husband humiliated her with slaves. I… I greatly regret that I have added to her shame.’

Abigail put her hand over James’s hand and squeezed it gently. ‘Have you spoken to Miss Muir?’

‘No,’ James said. ‘No. I cannot be trusted in her company. I will take all necessary steps to avoid it.’

Abigail nodded. ‘I will tell Elizabeth that you wish to see her. She was talking to Crawshaw, the slave doctor, when I arrived.’

‘Thank you.’

Abigail paused when she reached the door. ‘James, I know that you blame yourself entirely for this situation, as you blamed Elizabeth entirely for her failure to tell you of her barrenness. You both erred, but we are all of us sinful creatures. We all sin and we all pray for forgiveness. When you and Elizabeth are forgiving each other, I pray that you will spare a little forgiveness for yourselves.’

James shook his head as she shut the door behind her. ‘I deserve neither,’ he said quietly.

He managed to sit up a little and lean back against the headboard. He had missed both breakfast and lunch yet instead of hunger pangs he had guilt and unhappiness gnawing at his stomach. He sipped a little water from the pitcher and remembered dropping the pitcher at the Muirs. He would have to send Malachi with a replacement and his thanks. If they would accept it. If Jane had told them what had happened, then they would be more like pitch it at his head than accept it. It had been shocking behaviour, utterly brazen, and if it became widely known her reputation would be utterly ruined.

He shook his head. Jane Muir was not his responsibility. Elizabeth was. He had injured her. Remedying that injury had to be his focus, not some selfish, petty indulgence in impossible romance.

He looked at the door as there was a soft tap.

‘Come.’

Elizabeth’s lowered face was pale. Her hair had run a little loose from the many pins holding it rigidly in place.

‘Are you feeling better, James?’ she asked quietly. ‘I thought that the doctor wished you not to be moved until your leg was healed.’

‘I wanted to come home,’ he said. ‘I needed… I needed to tell you… I am so sorry, Elizabeth. I will not insult you with excuses. I was weak and if I could undo it I would. If it cost me my leg to undo it, I would.’

She licked her lips and swallowed. ‘I am so sorry, James.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘I should have not –’

‘I was so afraid,’ she said.

James reached out and caught her fingers with his own. ‘I promise you, what you saw was all that happened. It was far more than should have ever happened, I know.’

Elizabeth’s breathing was a little slow, but her words tumbled out. ‘I cannot blame you for your natural preference.’

‘I should be blamed for my actions and inactions,’ he said.

Elizabeth sat upon the bed. Her breathing was becoming slower and she pressed her hand to her head.

James clasped her other hand in his own. ‘Are you unwell? Let me loosen your corset.’

‘He said my head might ache and I might feel a little dizzy, but that only meant the draught was working,’ she said, blinking.

James called for Malachi and for Tilly, but Elizabeth’s meagre colour was leeching away, and she folded forward. James tore open her dress then seized his pocketknife from the table and cut through the lacings of her corset.

‘What have you taken? Elizabeth what draught have you taken?’ he demanded.

He lifted her face to look into her eyes. The pupils had almost disappeared.

‘Doctor Crawshaw… He said it could cure…’ She bit her lip. ‘You so wanted… If I could just give you…’

James pulled her close as Malachi came running in. ‘Get the doctor! Get him now!’

Elizabeth was clinging to him. She buried her face in his neck. ‘So sorry. So sorry.’

James stroked her back. ‘Shush. No need.’

‘Forgive me?’ she whispered.

‘Yes. I already did.’ He nodded. ‘Do you think you could forgive me?’

She managed a smile. ‘Yes. I already did.’

***

Deaths had rituals. Funerals had etiquette. It was the way things were done. James had given neither significant thought before becoming more intimately acquainted with them both. Melancholia and regret fogged his thoughts too much to allow him significant thought now. Malachi, Abigail, and William Junior, guided him through waking, dressing, necessary decisions, and every action that allowed the pretence that life continue as it always had.

The house was full of family, friends, and the curious pretending to be one or the other. It was with a sense of surreal relief that James realised that he was not only unnecessary but that his presence was actively reducing the enjoyment of the other “mourners.” As the alcohol dipped and the conversation rose, James slipped along the slave corridor to the kitchen, ignored their confused surprised, and left through the kitchen door.

He walked along the main street without clear thought of his destination. He found himself drifting towards the graveyard where he had so recently watched Elizabeth been interred. James had rarely visited the graveyard before. He had been there twice as a child; for the burial of the older sister carried off by influenza and the younger sibling who had died before they left Abigail’s womb. As a child those deaths had been distressing and upsetting.

He had not been prepared for this. He had not been prepared for the feeling that he had been cast adrift into a nightmare.

There was a mourner at Elizabeth’s graveside. James stopped some feet away and fumbled in his pocket for his handkerchief.

‘Oh!’ Jane said, taking a step back. ‘I apologise. I did not… I thought if I went to the church it would…’ She took a deep breath. ‘I am so sorry, James. How are you?’

He shook his head. ‘I know not,’ he confessed. ‘The world is wrong.’

Jane took his proffered handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. ‘I thought I would be unwelcome at the funeral,’ she said softly. ‘That she did what she did after I… I wish I could have told her that you were entirely innocent. That you did not betray her.’

James swallowed. ‘Elizabeth did not end her own life.’

Jane clutched her hands together. ‘I thought… I was told that she had taken poison?’

‘Not by choice,’ James said. He shook his head. ‘She took medicine from a slave doctor. He promised her it would allow her to bear children.’

‘I would not give medicine from a slave doctor to my dogs!’ Jane gasped.

James looked at the headstone. ‘She was desperate,’ he said.

Jane closed her eyes. ‘She knew how important it was to you.’

‘Yes.’

Jane stepped closed. ‘I did not mean… It was not your fault!’

James looked at her. ‘It was.’

‘You are wrong,’ she said softly. ‘Elizabeth was no child. You do her injustice by imagining she was incapable of making her own choices.’

James clasped his hands together. ‘Why are you here, Jane?’

‘I liked Elizabeth very much,’ she said quietly. ‘I mourn her loss. The pain I caused her will always be with me.’

James tentatively touched the back of her hand. Jane caught his hand.

‘What will you do now?’ she asked.

He shook his head. ‘The hotel begins construction soon,’ he said. ‘That will take considerable attention.’

Jane managed a smile. ‘Good. I know that it is important to you as it was important to her.’

James licked his lips. ‘Malachi said that your father was considering sending you to a convent.’

Jane laughed a little. ‘I imagine that idea would appeal.’ She straightened her gloves. ‘He would be happy if I married.’

‘What would make you happy?’ he asked.

She was thoughtful. ‘Marriage is only as appealing as the person you marry. I will not marry a man I do not love.’

‘Not everyone has that luxury,’ James said.

Jane touched her hand to his cheek. ‘I hope that one day I will.’ She turned and began to walk away. ‘I hope to see you when your mourning is over, Mr Green.’

‘Thank you for your good wishes, Miss Muir,’ he said quietly.

The End. 


End file.
